It was 12:03 a.m.
The hallway outside the dormitory rooms was pitch dark, lit only by the emergency exit light and the occasional flicker of a dying ceiling bulb.
Mio's phone buzzed under her pillow. Groggy and disoriented, she pulled it out and squinted at the screen.
> Sora: "Rooftop. Emergency. Don't ask. Come alone."
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She tapped the image.
A boy's school blazer. A very familiar one — from their academy. But what made her sit up straight was the lipstick stain smeared on the collar, bright crimson. Sloppy, urgent. As if someone had kissed — or bitten — them hard.
Mio's breath caught.
This wasn't a prank.
She tiptoed through the corridor, hugging her oversized hoodie close. No one stopped her. The night guard must've been asleep, or looking the other way.
Fifth floor. Maintenance stairs. Roof access.
She hadn't been up here since the art club's moonlight photography project. The metal door groaned as she pushed it open, the cool night air hitting her face like a slap.
And there she was.
Sora stood near the ledge, city lights reflecting off her bare shoulders. She was wearing a cropped tank top, short flared skirt, her dyed pink-and-black hair loose and wild in the wind.
She didn't turn.
"You came," she said.
Mio walked toward her, uneasy. "Of course I did. What happened?"
"Look at this again." Sora handed her the photo.
Now in full resolution, the details were clearer.
It wasn't just any blazer. It had their academy's crest. But not the boys' uniform — it was the staff blazer.
And that lipstick… the shade was eerily familiar.
"Is this… Reika-sensei's lipstick?" Mio asked, voice hushed.
Sora gave a humorless laugh. "Exactly what I thought."
Mio stepped back. "Wait. You think our teacher kissed someone? A student?"
"Not just kissed," Sora muttered. "I think she's watching someone. Maybe more than one of us."
She sat on the water tank edge, legs dangling.
"I snuck into her office to look for my old art portfolio. She once kept it to 'inspire' juniors. I thought maybe if I found it, I'd feel... grounded. Instead, I found that photo. Printed. Hidden inside a music theory folder. Like she thought no one would ever check."
Mio's skin tingled.
"That's not all," Sora added. "She has a drawer full of envelopes. Handwritten notes. Some signed. Most not. One of them had my name on it."
Mio froze.
"Wait—what did it say?"
Sora stared out into the night.
"'She acts like she doesn't need anyone, but she craves attention like a stray cat. Pathetic.'"
Mio covered her mouth. "That's... twisted."
"I know. And that handwriting? It was hers."
A long silence.
Then, Sora spoke again, softer now.
"You know what's worse? I used to admire her. Thought she was the only adult who didn't judge me. But maybe she wasn't protecting us. Maybe she was… collecting us."
Mio sat beside her. "You're not overreacting. But we need proof. Real proof."
Sora looked at her.
"You believe me?"
"Always."
Suddenly, the door creaked.
They both jumped, hiding low behind the tank.
Footsteps.
Someone was up here. Quiet, deliberate footsteps.
Then…
A soft click.
A flash.
A camera shutter?
Mio clutched Sora's arm.
After a moment, silence.
The steps faded. The door creaked again.
Gone.
"What the hell was that?" Mio whispered.
"I don't know," Sora said, wide-eyed. "But they saw us."
Back in her dorm room, Mio couldn't sleep.
She sat on the floor, sketchbook open.
She tried to draw anything else — the skyline, a flower, even her old shoes — but her hand moved on its own.
The rooftop.
Sora's silhouette.
The shadow behind them.
A camera.
A single glowing red dot, like a laser.
Someone was watching. Again.
She looked at the finished sketch.
In the background, barely visible — a figure with a long skirt, glasses, and a clipboard. The outline was unmistakable.
Reika.
The next morning, the academy buzzed with whispers.
Rumors flew like wildfire:
Someone saw Sora and Mio sneaking out last night.
A photo was anonymously posted on a secret student forum.
A teacher might be involved in something… inappropriate.
In the music room, Aika leaned against the grand piano, arms folded.
"You two sure know how to start a fire," she said coolly.
Mio looked guilty. Sora just looked pissed.
"Did you post the picture?" Sora challenged.
Aika laughed once. "I don't stalk rooftops at midnight, thanks."
"But you knew," Mio said. "Didn't you? That Reika-sensei was... off."
Aika paused. Something flickered in her eyes.
"She's obsessed with control," Aika said finally. "It's not about love or care. It's about owning what she can't become."
Mio stared. "You're talking from experience."
Aika didn't answer.
After school, all three met in the abandoned art club room — dusty canvases, paint-chipped stools, and one working lamp.
"We need to dig deeper," Sora said.
Aika opened a folder.
Inside — copies of two anonymous letters.
One addressed to "S.K."
The other, to "A.H."
Mio read them aloud, her voice shaking.
"They're about us."
"Which means," Sora said, "Reika's watching all three."
Aika smirked. "Then let's give her something worth watching."